


A Lesson in Courage

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-31
Updated: 2008-01-31
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: Ron decides he’s a coward—Harry convinces him otherwise.





	A Lesson in Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/ginger_lust/profile)[**ginger_lust**](http://community.livejournal.com/ginger_lust/) on Live Journal. Thanks to [](http://simons-flower.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://simons-flower.livejournal.com/)**simons_flower** for the beta.

Ron watched the fire in the living room crackling as he lit another fag. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t sleep, he only knew that he couldn’t shut off his brain. Harry was snoring away in the next room and Ron knew he needed it.

Ron took a deep drag off the fag he’d nicked from Sirius’ old room and sighed heavily. Maybe it was the fact that he was sleeping alone for the first time in months. He didn’t have Harry’s snoring or Hermione’s soft breathing to lull him to sleep. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have the courage to go after what he wanted - to be an Auror. Or maybe it was the fact he felt like he was settling, settling for a career with George, settling for a steady relationship with Hermione, all of it designed to make his family very happy.

Ron stared into the fire and sighed heavily again, wondering not for the first time what _would_ make him happy. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Harry come into the room. He lit another fag and wondered how much damage he was doing to his lungs with chain smoking.

"Why am I such a coward?" Ron muttered out loud and jumped when he heard a voice besides his own respond.

"What makes you think you’re a coward?"

Harry’s voice was rough with sleep and he cleared his throat several times before moving to settle into the chair across from Ron. His dark hair was messier than normal, there was a hint of stubble on his chin, and his glasses were slightly crooked. He arched his eyebrow when Ron lifted the fag to his lips and took another pull from it.

"When did you start smoking?" Harry asked, running a hand through his hair. "For that matter, how long have you been talking to yourself?"

Ron studied Harry carefully in the firelight, he noted the way the flames glinted off the lenses of Harry’s glasses, the way Harry’s hand lay on the arm of the chair, and the frayed ends of Harry’s pajama bottoms.

"I found the fags the other day when we were cleaning up Sirius’ old room," Ron said as he tapped the ashes into the empty bottle of ale sitting beside him on the end table. "You’re not really talking to yourself if no one is listening, yeah?"

Harry laughed softly and settled back into the chair. There was a silence between them and Ron realized this wasn’t one of their comfortable silences. This silence seemed to stretch on, shifting between them, creating an almost unbearable tension in the room. As desperately as he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything funny to lighten the mood.

"So…" Ron sighed. "Why aren’t you sleeping?"

"Why do you think you’re a coward?" Harry countered and crossed his ankle over his knee.

"Well, I reckon it wasn’t really all that brave abandoning you and Hermione out there in the wilderness."

Harry uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs, and turned to look at the fire briefly. Ron lit yet another fag as he waited for Harry to respond. . A flutter in his stomach at the feel of Harry’s eyes settling on him sent a ripple of awareness through him, and when he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s the intensity he found there was nearly heart-stopping.

"That’s not it," Harry finally said and Ron was taken back by the anger in Harry’s voice. "You’re lying to me."

"I’ve been lying to myself," Ron said softly, almost to himself, and his face heated. "A coward chooses the easy way; a coward lets his life be…" Ron struggled to find the right words. "A coward lets everyone and everything around him decide his future. A coward runs out on his best mate when things get tough."

Harry was on his feet quicker than Ron would have thought possible. He pulled Ron to his feet, and poked him hard in the chest with his index finger.

"You. Are. Infuriating." Harry growled, biting off each word, and poked Ron again. "You’re in here wallowing in self-pity. You are free to choose your own life!"

"No, I have to do what everyone expects," Ron hissed and grabbed Harry’s finger. "Don’t fucking poke me again!"

Harry’s eyes darkened and he pulled his finger free of Ron’s grip. "Am I hacking you off Ron?"

"Yes!"

Harry poked Ron hard in the chest again and snarled, "Good! I’m so bloody tired of you wallowing in self-pity about your life. At least you’re alive which is more than Remus or Tonks have. You have people who love you!"

Ron grabbed Harry’s wrist just as Harry lifted his hand again to poke him. Ron felt a wave of anger slam through his body and he shuddered with the force of it.

"You don’t know what its like," Ron shouted. "You don’t know what it’s like to have the rest of your life decided for you!"

Harry struggled to free his arm from Ron’s grip but Ron simply tightened his fingers around Harry’s wrist. He could feel magic pouring off Harry in waves and he knew that he’d pushed Harry too far.

"Where have you been for the last seven and half years?" Harry shouted. "Do you recall Voldemort and the wonderful fate Dumbledore had chosen for me?"

"See there, you were brave. Bloody hell, Harry, you faced death for what you believe in. Me, I hide behind my best mate."

"Right," Harry said sarcastically. "I suppose that was you hiding behind me when we went after the Stone in first year, into the Chamber the second…" Harry moved closer to Ron and struggled again to get free. "This needs to be said. I suppose that wasn’t you that stood up to Sirius when you thought he was going to murder me—what was it you said? Not to mention in fifth year when you went with me to the Ministry or in sixth year when you faced Death Eaters in the school. Or when you splinched yourself at the Ministry, I suppose you weren’t scared at all."

"Of course I was scared," Ron muttered. "You’d have to be daft not to be."

"That’s my point! You are not a coward. A coward would have run from all those things. You stayed despite your fear. Courage isn’t an absence of fear it’s acting despite that fear."

Ron took a deep breath, his stomach knotted briefly, and he stared down at Harry. He nodded his head, took another deep breath, and finally whispered, "So maybe if I acted despite my fear I wouldn’t feel like such a coward?"

"Gee, Ron, you think?"

Ron bit his lip hard and stared down into Harry’s eyes. There was a myriad of emotions welling in those bright green eyes—friendship, anger, and a hungry look that Ron recognized from his own reflection in the mirror. It gave him strength, galvanized him, and he tugged Harry firmly against him.

He lowered his head swiftly and placed his lips on Harry’s. He felt the puff of air from Harry’s gasp of surprise and then Harry was kissing him back. Their lips clung together, their tongues met, brushing together, and retreated before coming back for more. Ron’s hand released Harry’s wrist only to slide down to Harry’s waist and pull him closer.

"Ron?" Harry’s voice was hoarse when they parted. "What...what..."

"That was me," Ron replied as he rolled his hips and let Harry feel his erection, "acting despite my fear."

"You were afraid of me?"

"No, I was…I am afraid of what I feel," Ron said softly. "I wanted to do what was right, not what makes me happy. But this, with you, it makes me happy."

"Me too," Harry moaned as Ron brought their hips into alignment again. "Kiss me again."

Ron didn’t need any further encouragement—his mouth descended on Harry’s. Their tongues met in the air between them, sliding over the other, and when their lips finally crashed together, Ron felt the shudder that ran through Harry. Their hands tangled as they struggled to reach bare skin. Their hips rocked in unison, a give and take as old as time. Ron moaned when Harry’s hands ran down his chest to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Ron’s knees weakened when Harry cupped his cock through the thin fabric and he swallowed Harry’s moan when he mimicked Harry's motion.

Ron walked backwards, sinking into the chair, pulling Harry onto his lap with a muffled grunt from each of them. Ron’s hands tugged at Harry’s t-shirt, struggling to get it over his head, and when he finally did, he latched onto the smooth skin of Harry’s shoulder. His teeth raked across Harry’s collarbone before he trailed his tongue down and over Harry’s nipple.

"Ron…"

"Yeah?"

"Touch me," Harry whimpered as Ron tugged his nipple between his teeth.

"You touch me, too, yeah?"

Harry nodded his head and their hands tangled again, both working to push down each other’s pajama bottoms. When Harry’s hand closed around Ron’s bare cock, Ron couldn’t hold back his whimper. Ron lifted his own hand to his mouth, licking his palm, and he slowly circled Harry’s shaft. Their lips met again and Ron was dimly aware that this was better than wanking—Harry knew exactly how to touch him, exactly how to tighten his hand on his cock on each upward stroke. He couldn’t do anything more than whimper into Harry’s mouth as he approached orgasm.

Harry pulled his head back and whimpered, "Watch…watch us…"

Ron looked down and watched his cock disappearing into Harry’s fist, both slick with precum, and he watched his own hand sliding up and down Harry’s shaft. He was aware for the first time in six weeks he wasn’t afraid; he felt safe and that, as much as anything, sent him over the edge.

He called out Harry’s name as he came and he felt Harry’s cock pulse in his hand before he watched Harry come. Ron relished the way Harry panted his name as he came and their lips met again as Ron stroked him slowly until he was spent.

They rested their foreheads together and Ron whispered, "I know what I have to do. I have to enroll in the Auror Academy, I have to tell Hermione that I love her but I’m in love with you, and I have to tell George and my family my life isn’t going to work out they way they thought."

"Are you still scared?" Harry whispered.

"A bit." Ron stared into Harry’s eyes. "But I’ve got you, right?"

"Always, Ron," Harry replied. "I’ll be there with you for everything."

"Good." Ron grinned and kissed Harry firmly. "I can hide behind you when Hermione tries to hex me." He smiled at Harry’s laughter.

Ron wasn’t sure what the future would hold, or even what tomorrow would hold, and yet he was acting in spite of his fear. For once in his life he felt brave.

 

* * *


End file.
